Noble House
by LadyRhiyana
Summary: Intrigue and in-fighting within the noble Kuchiki clan force Byakuya to re-evaluate his place in Soul Society. Updated 19.7.11.
1. Prologue 1

**A/N – **I hope you will all come along for the ride on this one. As always, reviews and comments are much appreciated.

**Disclaimer – **Bleach, all the associated characters, settings and storylines belong to Kubo Tite, and not to me, alas. The title "Noble House" has been borrowed from James Clavell.

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**Prologue 1**

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In the hushed silence of the manor, dark shadows crept through the moonlit halls, intent on their destination, the chamber where the clan lord slept, guarded by elite guardsmen. The assassins made no sound as they passed, blending easily with the shifting shadows; the nightingale floor did not sound, and the guards, vigilant as they were, had no warning before soot-blackened steel hissed over their throats. Leather-gloved hands stifled their grunts of shock and alarm, lowering their bodies softly to the floor and dragging them out of sight.

Working with trained co-ordination the assassins gathered at the lacquered shoji screen and took great care to slide it open as silently as they could, exhaustively briefed on their target's exceptional abilities. If they succeeded in this mission, it would bring untold riches and honour upon them and their families. If they failed…

Failure was unthinkable.

Slowly, they padded over the springy tatami floor, their knives and swords out and ready. The air hummed with tension, their senses stretched to the utmost, focused upon the chamber: an exquisitely painted screen; an alcove adorned with a seasonal arrangement of wildflowers; a low expanse of bedding, where the lord lay.

For a moment, the leader's heartbeat hesitated, the thought of Kuchiki Byakuya – even sleeping and stripped of his kenseikan, his white haori, and his formidable dignity – enough to give him pause. His suppressed reiatsu stirred, and though he brought it immediately under control, by then it was far too late.

The white-hot intensity and unbearable pressure of a captain's immense, unrestrained reiatsu flared. The leader staggered, dropped to his knees; the other assassins – insensitive – hesitated, only for a moment –

And then an arc of shining steel flashed in the dimly lit room. An assassin grunted and cried out, blood spraying from his severed jugular. The others rushed in, recovering quickly, and attacked – but they were no match for their erstwhile victim's exceptional skill. Again and again, Senbonzakura's blade flashed, crimson-stained now; one by one the assassins fell, until in the bloody darkness they heard the Kuchiki clan lord say, in flat, utterly indifferent tones –

"_Chire."_

There was an interlude of screaming, whirling chaos, the barely visible sparks of Senbonzakura's blades devastating in such a confined space, every one of the thousand petals drawing blood with exquisite, vicious grace.

And then there was silence, broken only by harsh, fearful breathing; the leader of the assassins, the last one left alive, facing the man he had thought to kill. No coward, he tightened his shaking grip on his sword and drew himself up, preparing himself for death. He thought of making a speech, justifying his actions so that his death would at least be marked with some dignity.

But Kuchiki Byakuya had had more than enough.

He recalled Senbonzakura to his hand, and with graceful, brutal efficiency he struck.

Grimly flicking the blood from his blade, he looked up to see Rukia watching him from the door, gripping Sode no Shirayuki tightly, her eyes wide and shocked as she absorbed the carnage.

"Nii-sama," she said faintly. "I felt your reiatsu flare. I thought…"

Slowly, deliberately, he wiped Senbonzakura clean and resheathed her.

"This is the fourth time in as many months," he said. "I am becoming tired of this."

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	2. Prologue 2

**A/N** – Prologue 2.

**Disclaimer** – I do not own Bleach, any of the canon characters, situations or settings. Don't sue.

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**Prologue 2**

* * *

"I am not easy with this meeting, Eldest," Kuchiki Kyousuke murmured, his wide, honest brow creasing in concern. "It smacks of subterfuge and deceit."

They sat in semi-darkness, the screens drawn against eavesdroppers and watching spies; but everyone knew the Eldest had grown increasingly eccentric over the years, imagining plots and conspiracies in every shadow and passing glance. Still, the old man was the oldest of the Kuchiki Elders, and so Kyousuke owed him respect, at least.

"That's because you are a good man, Kyousuke-kun," Kuchiki Endo said gruffly. "We say nothing here that cannot be said in full light of day."

Kyousuke smiled at the man who had once been his greatest mentor, when he had been a boy and Endo the acerbic head Archivist. Long years had passed since then, but the bond of affection and trust remained.

"That's right," the Eldest agreed hoarsely. "And I think we all know what we're here to say: Byakuya has grown too powerful."

There were scattered nods and murmurs from the rest of the gathering; the entire council of Elders and the most ultra-conservative members of the clan.

Kyousuke frowned. "Byakuya-sama is a most able lord, surely? The Kuchiki have grown in fortune and prestige since he took over from Ginrei-sama. And he has done nothing wild since Lady Hisana's passing."

"And that's another thing," Kuchiki Noriyu grunted, spare and perpetually querulous. "His taste for Rukongai meat."

"Noriyu-san!" Kyousuke gasped.

"However crudely he put it," another Elder intervened, "Noriyu has a valid point. Byakuya went against our wishes in the matter of his wife and her sister. We all remember how he threatened us with his reiatsu into accepting them into our clan."

"And look how that turned out. That disgraceful fiasco on Soukyoku hill."

"To be fair," Endo conceded, "he did just what he ought there. She broke the laws, and sister or no, he would have stood aside."

"But since then," the Eldest said, "I have been watching him, and he has shown signs of the hot-headed boy he was in his youth. He was always too strong for his own good – Ginrei failed to properly curb him."

Kyousuke privately thought the young Byakuya had been too fierce a spirit for the conservative Kuchiki family, sometimes imagining him a changeling from some other, wilder clan. There had been no malice in him, no matter what the Eldest claimed; he had simply burned too brightly. Kyousuke, with two young sons of his own, had harboured a soft spot for the young heir, taking him under his wing during Byakuya's stint in the Archives – but even then, Byakuya's eyes had been fixed firmly on the Gotei 13.

"He is our most powerful clan head in generations," Kyousuke said mildly. "With respect, I thought that was what Ginrei-sama and the Elders planned when they selected him and began to train him." There was a low grumbling and muttering, but he spoke over it. "And I thought that the vow Byakuya-sama swore after Rukia's adoption – the vow that, once again, the Elders suggested – would be enough to satisfy you. Respectfully, what exactly are you suggesting?" Kyousuke asked. "Why this meeting? For I will not be party to an attempted coup."

There was a moment of silence, and then Endo burst into raucous laughter. "A coup?" he snorted. "What were you thinking, Kyousuke-kun? We don't want to _depose_ him. We simply want to set up another voice in the Council, one more popular with the younger generation than us old fogies. You – you're the head Archivist, but you're well liked and respected within the family."

"But…" He stuttered, confronted by the full force of the Elders' expectations. "But I'm an archivist. I've never wanted to sit on the Council."

"Once set up on the Council, you'll be the voice of tradition and precedent," the Eldest stated, a barely concealed command. "If Byakuya makes any wild decisions, you will rein them in."

Kyousuke drew in his breath. Privately, he doubted his ability to restrain Byakuya in any way, but he could see the Elders' point. Byakuya was such a strong leader that most of the younger generation was content to leave everything in his hands. Not even Ginrei-sama had held such a tight grip on the leadership.

The Eldest's eyes glittered with zeal. There had been strong feeling between him and Byakuya for years, flaring into utter antipathy when the Eldest had flatly opposed to countenance Hisana's entrance into the clan. Their mutual enmity bordered on the irrational, and it had threatened to split the clan more than once.

For a moment Kyousuke had the thought that he should rather be called upon to restrain the Eldest from making any wild decisions. But this was not the Eldest acting on his own. This was a legitimate deputation with a legitimate request.

"If the Elders wish it," he said with a small bow, "I will do my best to become a balancing weight to Byakuya-sama's influence. But it will be no more than that."

"Of course, of course," the Eldest smiled. "That's all we ask, Kyousuke-kun. My word on it."


	3. Chapter 1

**A/N** – And now we begin the story.

**Disclaimer** – I don't own Bleach, any of the canon characters, situations or settings. Don't sue.

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**Chapter 1**

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Dawn was just breaking across Seireitei as Renji approached the headquarters of the 6th division. He was walking upright and in a relatively straight line, which he considered an achievement in itself after a night out with Matsumoto and Kyouraku-taichou; still, he was feeling decidedly mellow, and he was glad that his shift did not begin for another two hours.

The two Shinigami on guard sprang to attention and saluted him as he neared the gates. "Abarai-fukutaichou!" they snapped out in perfect unison, rushing to let him in, and he grinned weakly at their nervous enthusiasm.

"Yo," he managed, waving a lazy hand as he passed. "Morita; Kenzo." They were first year recruits straight out of the Academy, still awed by their first placement. Give him another six months, and Renji and the other seated officers would work them 'til they cried, turn them upside down and shake them until they lost their shine and took on the shape of the 6th division.

If they did something extraordinary – or extraordinarily stupid – they might even come to Kuchiki-taichou's attention.

That was how things were in the 6th. The division revered their aloof captain, speaking in awed tones of his absolute authority, his perfect discipline, his control of his extraordinary power. The subdued thrum of Kuchiki-taichou's reiatsu underlay the entire compound, an unspoken assurance – though they saw only little of him, the division at least knew that he was present in his office, no doubt kneeling in a shaft of perfect sunlight, drinking tea and contemplating drifting cherry blossoms.

If the captain set the impossible standard for the division, it was Renji – with his rough and ready methods and flashfire temper – who set the everyday tone, gathering the day to day concerns and triumphs of the squad, dispensing praise and discipline and offering an occasionally sympathetic ear. During his first days as vice-captain there had been numerous complaints made about his methods: fresh from Zaraki-taichou and the 11th, he had been lean and hungry, fierce and proud, and the predominantly noble 6th had always had a reputation for order, discipline and tradition. When Kuchiki-taichou had indicated his complete indifference in the matter, however, Renji and his detractors had been forced to work out a rough compromise.

Renji had once ventured to thank the captain for that tacit show of support. Kuchiki-taichou had _looked_ at him and said that he had known exactly what Renji was when he chose him for the position.

Such was the enigmatic, often maddening captain. And since his fight with Kurosaki Ichigo, when he had come to some kind of inner revelation, he had become even harder to read.

A few steps into the compound, Renji felt the captain's reiatsu, but rather than its usual disciplined calm, it was stirring a little, tiny spikes and eddies that Kuchiki-taichou would normally never allow. No wonder the guards had been nervous; if there was one thing Renji had learned in the late upheaval, it was that if the high-ranking officers were unsettled, it could spread through the whole division.

If Kuchiki-taichou was unsettled…

As he headed further into the headquarters' corridors, he passed other Shinigami scuttling about, their shoulders hunched and their eyes wary. They brightened when they saw him, relieved and reassured by his presence. Renji felt the weight of their expectations like a physical burden, their belief that he could find out what was wrong with their world and fix it. And so, rather than heading to his room and snatching an hour of much-needed sleep before starting the day, he braced his shoulders and headed towards Kuchiki-taichou's office.

He could feel the reiatsu humming in his bones as he approached. Even before he heard the flat, monotone order to enter, he knew that the captain was aware of his presence. On guard and very much aware of his manners, he stepped into the office and bowed, awaiting acknowledgement.

In his peripheral vision Renji could see the Kuchiki-taichou with his back to him, standing, as always, before the glass window looking out over Seireitei. That was nothing new. What was different today was the sword – _not _Senbonzakura – lying unsheathed on the pristine lacquered desk, the tightly-wrapped hilt stained with blood, and the blade blackened with soot and coated with...a dark, oily film?

Forgetting himself, Renji stepped over to the desk and bent over the sword, sniffing suspiciously at the substance on the blade. Underneath the reek of soot and the tang of metal and oil was a sharp, acrid scent that stirred the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Poison?" he gasped incredulously, before he could stop himself. But who would do such a thing? And how had Kuchiki-taichou got hold of such a blade?

"Abarai-fukutaichou," Kuchiki-taichou said formally, ignoring Renji's interruption, "As of today you will be the effective head of this division. I have already sent the forms for processing."

"B-but, taichou!" Renji exclaimed, utterly blindsided.

"I do not know how long I will be gone, but in the meantime you will be acting captain, invested with all my privileges and responsibilities. If you feel yourself in need of advice, you would do well to be guided by Ukitake-taichou." His flat black eyes watched as Renji sputtered and gasped. "And, Renji," he continued ominously, "do not disgrace the division while I am gone."

And with that, Kuchiki-taichou turned his back once more, and Renji had to be content. Still not quite sure what had just happened, he bowed briefly and wandered out of the office in a daze. He hardly noticed when the third and fourth seat gathered around him, anxious to know what was so wrong. His mind was still occupied with the thought of the 6th division without the captain, of himself behind the captain's desk in the captain's office.

He was not ashamed to admit that he was terrified.

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Once Byakuya felt Renji and the other officers move further away towards the common area, he turned his attention back to the sword that he had taken from the leader of the assassins last night. It lay on his desk like a foul, dishonourable stain, a filthy reminder of what could have happened.

Rukia had been sleeping nearby last night, her own chambers not far down the corridor from his. If the assassins had gone after her as well, or if the fight had spread to other areas of the house, she might have sustained a wound from the poisoned blade.

If she had been harmed…

His hand clenched on Senbonzakura's hilt.

If she was harmed in this, he would _never_ forgive them.

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	4. Chapter 2

**A/N** – Chapter 2. My apologies for letting this sit for so long without an update. Please review and let me know what you think.  
**Disclaimer** – I don't own Bleach, any of the canon characters, situations or settings. Don't sue.

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**Chapter 2**

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It took Renji far too long to take in the fact that he was now acting captain of the 6th division. He spent the next few hours briefing his officers, addressing their concerns and taking control before Kuchiki-taichou's absence could become a problem. He was aided in this by his previous experience as acting captain; by now the 6th division was used to his abrasive leadership, and there were relatively few issues with the men.

After dismissing the meeting, he shut himself up in the vice-captain's office – he could not bear the thought of moving into the captain's – and forced himself to do some serious thinking. That was why, in the afternoon after Kuchiki-taichou's bombshell, he found himself hammering on the doors of 13th division's headquarters.

"Rukia!" he shouted, ignoring the two Shinigami on guard, who were watching him with amused incredulity. "Rukia!"

"Kuchiki's not here, Abarai-fukutaichou," Kiyone called, popping out suddenly from a second-story window. "She specifically asked us to tell you that, if you should come running up here like a madman."

Renji grunted. "Did she say where she was going?"

"I don't think she wants you to find her, Renji."

"Thanks a lot," he retorted sourly.

The 13th's fourth seat only grinned. "Good luck!" she called out cheerily to his departing back.

It took him the better part of three hours, but he finally tracked her down to one of the better noodle stalls in Rukongai's second district. Rukia had always had a weakness for their udon, ever since the days they'd both been at the Academy.

"Well, well," he drawled, sinking down opposite her, stealing her chopsticks.

Resigned, Rukia passed over her bowl. He attacked the noodles with all the gusto of the Rukongai street-brat he was – no Kuchiki manners for him.

"What are you doing here, Renji?" Rukia asked.

He gulped down a last mouthful of noodles. "I need to talk to you," he said baldly. "About your brother."

"Nii-sama?" She widened her eyes. "What about him?"

Even when they'd been kids in Rukongai, she'd been a terrible liar. He gave her a long look. "Spill."

"Byakuya nii-sama does not want it known," she hedged.

"Your Byakuya nii-sama left me holding the bag," he said. "Rukia, please. I want to know what's going on."

Giving in, she sighed. "We can't talk here," she said under her breath. "Come on. Let's go back."

* * *

The sky was darkening towards evening as they headed back through the second district towards Seireitei. Rukia seemed distracted, lost in thought; Renji was willing to follow her, knowing that she would speak when she was ready and not before. As they passed through the lively entertainment district, elegant tea-houses side by side with brightly-lit restaurants and rowdy drinking establishments, they heard someone call out.

"Oi, Rukia!"

Rukia started, turned to face the source of the voice.

Sprawled with magnificent, drunken arrogance against the wall of a tea-house were two dark-haired nobles holding sake bottles, waving and grinning, beckoning Rukia over.

"Who are those two peacocks? Renji growled, his hackles rising as they always did at the sight of anyone with a noble background.

"I'm not sure," Rukia mused, "they seem familiar but…" Recognition set in as she headed over towards them. "Takezo!" Jun!" she called, smiling. "Renji," she beckoned, "these are my cousins. Kuchiki Takezo –" the elder of the two bowed, his richly coloured silk haori slipping drunkenly from his shoulders, "– and his brother Jun." The other grinned and waved, his eyes unfocused and a little glazed. "Yo," the brothers chorused good-naturedly.

"K...Kuchiki?" Renji breathed, dumbfounded. However now that he looked closer he could see a slight resemblance to his hawk-faced captain; a similarity of feature, if not nature.

"And this is Abarai Renji," Rukia continued, "nii-sama's vice-captain." When she dug him in the ribs with her sharp elbow, Renji collected himself enough to bow and mutter "yoroshiku" under his breath.

"I thought all you Kuchiki were –" he pulled a severe face and intoned, "'the Kuchiki are the keepers of law and tradition in society.'"

"Ara!" Jun laughed. "You do that so well, Abarai-fukutaichou. For a moment there, I was actually convinced that Byakuya-sama was standing over us, so disapproving – his grandfather and the Elders got to him when he was young, you know. He actually believes all that duty and tradition stuff."

Takezo nodded, swaying a little on his feet. "Jun and I, we're only younger sons of a minor branch – our father tried to brainwash us into the Kuchiki mindset, but we can't all measure up to Byakuya's standards." He smiled at Rukia, sweet and lop-sided. "Rukia, here, she wasn't so lucky – Byakuya-sama took her into his own house, under his direct protection and supervision – she couldn't escape. Sometimes, you know, she even talks like him –"

Rukia looked torn between outrage, careless fondness, and disapproval.

"Still, I'd rather have Byakuya-sama as clan head than Kyousuke," Jun muttered, glowering at his sake. "At least he's his own man."

"Hn," Takezo grunted lazily. But his eyes were more direct than they had at first seemed. And then he grinned, and the brief moment of clarity vanished. "Oh well, so long as our credit doesn't run out, who cares, eh? Byakuya or Kyousuke, it doesn't really make a difference to us, though Kyousuke doesn't moralise, I'll give him that, and he doesn't look at you _so._" He looked down his nose, for a brief, disconcerting moment looking very like Kuchiki-taichou. "Ja ne, Rukia," he said casually, waving drunkenly as he pushed off the wall and stumbled back into the tea-house.

"Cuz," Jun said, "Abarai." He, too, straightened, though with more grace than Takezo. "Look after yourself, will you?" And then he made his slightly weaving way back inside.

"What the hell was that?" Renji muttered under his breath, as they stood staring at where the two cousins had been. "It sounded like they were warning you."

"I don't know." Rukia frowned. "Takezo and Jun were some of the few Kuchiki cousins who ever accepted me after my adoption into the clan. They've made a career out of drunken exploits and wastefulness, but…" Her eyes narrowed, remembering the odd undercurrents in the brothers' conversation, the brief moments of unusual clarity. "They graduated from the Academy with honours, you know. Decades ago, before I was adopted, before nii-sama was made captain, back when the Elders had a greater grip on the clan. The Eldest did not want the younger members following nii-sama's example and joining the Gotei 13, and so forbade them from enlisting." Her voice softened. "They weren't as strong as nii-sama. They allowed the Elders to overrule them."

* * *

A tentative knock disturbed the peace of his inner sanctum. Byakuya knelt motionless by the open shoji screen, looking out into the perfectly manicured gardens; with a low, curt word he ordered the servant to enter. A Kuchiki steward entered, soft footsteps padding silently into the room and kneeling in the exact centre, waiting to deliver his message.

Byakuya did not look away from the gardens, but tilted his head in one of the subtle cues that the discreet, superbly trained Kuchiki servants swiftly learned to identify.

"Kuchiki-sama," the servant began, kneeling with head bowed as though waiting for Byakuya's displeasure to literally fall on his neck. "The Elders have called a meeting on an important matter of family business," he trailed off, swallowing before continuing, "and respectfully request that Kuchiki-sama grace it with his presence, if he should so please."

Byakuya caressed Senbonzakura's hilt, taking pleasure in the soft murmuring and rustling of her thousand shifting petals.

"Tell me what they truly said, Jinzo," he said mildly.

Behind him, he could feel Jinzo shaking. "Kuchiki-sama…"

But Byakuya would not relent.

"'Kuchiki Byakuya,'" Jinzo recited, his voice trembling, "'you are summoned before a meeting of the Elders to account for your actions as the Head of the Kuchiki Clan.'"

It would be so easy to unsheathe Senbonzakura, scatter her swirling blades and eliminate the Elders' opposition. But that way lay chaos and lawlessness and unforeseen consequences; witness how his decision to intimidate the Elders into accepting Rukia still bore bitter fruit even now.

_There is no privilege in nobility. _

Byakuya's grandfather had instilled this in him, long ago, even before he was old enough to fully understand it; the Kuchiki name bestowed no privileges, only burdens.

_Duty. Honour. Obedience. This is what it means, to be a Kuchiki. _

He dismissed the cowering Jinzo with a flick of his fingers, felt the steward rise and bow his way out of the room with almost indecent haste. He remained kneeling, motionless, until the unsteady footsteps faded away down the corridor and perfect silence resumed. And then he rose to his feet, slipped out of his white captain's haori, and with deliberate grace drew on a formal silk robe embroidered with the Kuchiki mon.

For a long moment, then, Byakuya hesitated. Finally he withdrew Senbonzakura's sheathed form from his obi and, bowing, laid her with great honour on a lacquered sword stand.

And then, unarmed, stripped of his Shinigami trappings, he drew on the grace and composure that had been bred into him since birth and made his way to the great hall, to obey the dictates of the Kuchiki Elders.

* * *

"Kuchiki Byakuya," the Eldest intoned, his voice gruff, his presence imposing. "We have called you here today to account for your actions during your time as Kuchiki clan head."

The Elders were arrayed in ranks, stiff and upright and imposing, staring down to where he stood before them, a petitioner in his own hall. Not all of them were as furiously disapproving as the Eldest; a number of them shifted minutely and refused to meet his gaze.

Byakuya did not reply to the Eldest's challenge.

"You have introduced changes," the Eldest accused. "Not content with flaunting your status as a Shinigami, you forgot your station so far as to introduce that woman from Rukongai into our midst."

Fifty years ago, when Hisana was still alive, no one – not even the Eldest – would have dared speak of her in that manner to Byakuya's face. But in the years since then, Byakuya had grown weary of constantly fighting against the tide; he had fought long and tirelessly for Hisana, but without his wife, he could no longer fight for himself. He had roused his old strength and defiance enough to force through Rukia's adoption, but after that, he had lapsed into apathy. He had loved Hisana with every ounce of passion and fire in his soul, but when she died she took everything with her.

The accusations continued, coming thick and fast, and not just from the Eldest. Byakuya had taken the ancient Kuchiki fortune – respectable even then – and turned it into riches even the most shameless merchant would blush to contemplate. He was more interested in the Gotei 13 than the true business of the nobility – especially the Kuchiki archives. Even his choice of vice-captain – once more, he favoured a gutter brat from Rukongai over a more suitable candidate from Seireitei.

And Rukia. Finally they came to Byakuya's adoption of Rukia, another Rukongai stray who ultimately brought disgrace and scandal to the Kuchiki in her public almost-execution. For the first time, Byakuya felt a slow, stirring ember of rage, a faded echo of the strength that had allowed him to defy the Elders, long ago – but then it faded into apathy, leaving only remnants behind.

* * *

"What is the Eldest thinking?" Kyousuke hissed under his breath to Endo, as the catalogue of accusations continued. "Why is he attempting to provoke Byakuya-sama?"

"He knows what he's doing," Endo muttered, though he looked worried. "If Byakuya makes even the slightest gesture of force, he's finished."

_Yes, but we'll be finished first. _

"The Eldest wishes to have his pound of flesh, Kyousuke," Endo continued. "He has never forgiven Byakuya for what happened 50 years ago."

"Hisana is long dead," Kyousuke scowled. "Why can we not bury the dead and move on?"

Endo only laughed.

The sound drew Byakuya's attention. His eyes widened fractionally as he saw Kyousuke seated beside Endo.

"Kyousuke," Byakuya said, speaking for the first time and effortlessly cutting through the Elders' diatribe. "I did not think to see you at this…travesty."

Once, Kyousuke had been a mentor, of sorts, to the young, fierce Byakuya. He drew in his breath – to explain, to apologise, he would never know afterwards – but the Eldest spoke first.

"Kyousuke is to be the newest voice on our Council of Elders. I am sure you will agree that he will be a moderating voice."

Byakuya's expression, already sternly controlled, went absolutely blank.

"So," was all he said. His eyes shifted to the Eldest, who could barely control his triumph. "A popular choice."

"We like to think so."

"Byakuya…" Kyousuke blurted out, but the words died when Byakuya turned back to him.

"The Head Archivist of the Kuchiki," Byakuya said quietly, though his words carried perfectly. "Universally respected, with a modest wife of impeccable lineage and two sons. Conservative, honourable, and with no taint of Rukongai or the Gotei 13 – the epitome of what all Kuchiki should strive to be."

Byakuya swept his gaze around the hall, confronting the Elders one by one. Tall, straight, fiercely self-contained, he commanded their attention effortlessly. "Well, I will not step aside. The full Council of Elders named me Clan Head; the full Council must replace me."

There was an uproar of protest and denial. Byakuya cut his hand through the air, a gesture that commanded instant silence. "Do as you like," he said flatly, and walked out.

As the doors closed behind him, the shouting broke out once more.

* * *

His footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floorboards.

Byakuya strode through the house too quickly, his reiatsu stirring and swirling restlessly. Senbonzakura answered wordlessly, the rustle of her petals tempting him – but no. He threw open the doors to his sanctum, lifted her from her stand, and left the house without a word.

He pushed his shunpo to its limits. He had no destination in mind, just instinct; stepping and stepping and stepping until the world was a blur and he needed all his concentration to control his momentum. Finally the world took on material shape again, and he came to a halt in an overgrown, whispering bamboo grove far from Seireitei.

He had come here to train, once. The bamboo trees still bore the cuts and scars of Senbonzakura's blades, before he had learned to properly control them. And the bowing and swaying of the trunks in the wind drew his mind back even further, to a young boy, hot-headed and volatile, chasing after the laughing Yoruichi. He had never caught her, not once.

Long years had passed since then. Yoruichi had vanished, and the young boy had succumbed to the influence of his grandfather and the Elders, duty and discipline slowly replacing the blood in his veins until he seemed completely frozen. Hisana had thawed the ice, but Hisana was dead, now –

It seemed such a long way back, to that hot-headed boy and his heedless passions.

Succumbing once more to impulse, he shed his heavy haori, unwound the kenseikan from his hair, and slung Senbonzakura over his back. Unencumbered, so far as he ever became, he leapt up into the high leaves, alighting with infinitely more skill and precision than the young boy he had once been. And then he began to run.

Slowly at first, self-conscious, and then faster and more reckless as he gave into his mad impulse, dancing along the branches, pushing himself and his skill (Senbonzakura dancing with him, petals swirling in the wind and in his inner heart) until his blood beat raggedly and his muscles burned. And then, because he was Kuchiki Byakuya and he could never completely escape himself, he pushed himself further, and further, until a brittle stalk cracked beneath his weight –

Pushing off, somersaulting into the air, he let himself fall, savouring the sense of absolute freedom, before he twisted in mid-air and landed perfectly on the leaf-covered earth, balanced on one knee.

Here in the wilderness with no one to see and judge him, he lay on his back, laughing, while his pulse returned to normal and the sweat cooled on his body.


End file.
